


• Cinq •

by ShesGoneRogue



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF
Genre: Dom/sub, Games, M/M, Sex, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-21
Updated: 2019-01-21
Packaged: 2019-10-14 02:35:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17499959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShesGoneRogue/pseuds/ShesGoneRogue
Summary: Armie and Timmy indulge in their favorite game after the 'He's my lover' fiasco.





	• Cinq •

**Author's Note:**

> Imperfect.  
> Unbeta'd.  
> Unapologetic smut...and schmoop (because you know me).

Armie sits quietly, appraising, knowing that the silence is killing him. He takes a long drag from his cigar and elegantly flicks an ash from the lapel of his jacket.

"You know what you did." he says quietly, crossing his feet on the leather ottoman in front of him.

Timmy fidgets, his face screwing up as he clasps his hands behind his back and glances down at his feet before meeting Armie's gaze. "Yes, sir...I'm sorry." 

Armie sees his lips twitch with a supressed smile. He's not sorry at all. They both know it.

"And you know there must be consequences."

"Yes, sir." Timmy flushes bright pink, obviously excited by the prospect but trying very hard to hide it by pulling a contrite expression.

Armie sips his whiskey to hide his smile. _This_ _kid_. Even after all this time he's still completely incapable of hiding his tells. He continues with the game. "Are you prepared to accept your punishment?"

Timmy swallows, his tongue making a little clicking noise as he opens his mouth to answer too quickly. "Yes, sir."

Armie swirls the whiskey in his glass thoughtfully and makes a casual gesture with the hand holding the cigar. "Undress then. Fold them neatly and put them on the dresser."

Timmy nods silently and takes his jacket off as he walks over to the dresser.

Armie notices his hands are shaking as he begins working at the buttons of his shirt. He smiles secretly to himself and turns away as though the fire in the hearth holds more interest for him than Timmy's obedience.

Timmy glances over his shoulder once before bending to remove his shoes and socks.

Armie knows he wants to be watched, but won't give him the satisfaction. Not yet.

Timmy returns to stand in front of him, hands clasped modestly over his flushed and already straining cock.

Armie puffs on his cigar again, his eyes traveling down Tim's body slowly from head to toes. He makes a show of 'reluctantly' dragging his feet from their comfy position propped on the ottoman to settle them about a foot apart on the floor. "Present."

Timmy tenses visibly but moves to do as he's told. He drops his hands and steps into the space between Armie's knees before turning away from him and bracing his hands on the ottoman to move himself into position. He looks back over his shoulder as he carefully lifts one leg and slides his foot back to nestle into the space between the armrest of the chair and Armie's hip, then repeats the motion with the other side. As he settles his chest against the buttery leather and turns to rest his cheek, his fingers flex minutely to grip the edges. "I'm ready, sir."

"I said ' _present_ '."

Timmy's breath shudders. He shifts back a little, resting his hips on Armie's knees as he arches his back to raise his ass. His biceps flex, fingers gripping harder at the leather to keep himself perched for Armie's approval.

Armie sips his whiskey before setting it and his cigar aside. He shifts his knees slightly to give him a little more support and lays a gentle hand on his lower back. "Good boy."

Tim squeezes his eyes closed and remains silent, his only reaction to the centering touch and quiet praise a slight shiver beneath Armie's palm.

Armie slides his hand down, his fingers tracing along his spine with a featherlight touch. Timmy is laid bare...pink and hairless, smooth as the day he was born. He's spread before him like a delicacy, and Armie intends to savor it before leaving his mark.

The leather creaks softly as Timmy reacts to the finger trailing slowly down his sensitive crease.

"Did you stop consider that there might be cameras around before you opened your mouth, Tim? Or did you willfully break the rules because you couldn't resist the rush?" his tone is casual, conversational.

"I...I didn't think about anyone recording it. I just wanted to say it out loud. Just once. I didn't expect...I didn't think—"

"That's just it though. You didn't _think_. We're you drunk?"

"Yes, sir. A little...but I was only speaking the truth. And - and I laughed so they would think I was joking."

"But this isn't a joke anymore is it, Tim?" He speaks in low tone, almost soothing as he grips one cheek with his thumb pressed in close and spreads him even further apart to watch his hole pucker. "We've had to make secret accounts and have even taken more _extreme_ measures to make this all look like no more than a fiction created by the fans...but you nearly undid all of that with a flippant introduction."

"Yes, sir...I'm sorry."

"I don't believe you are..." he presses the pad of his thumb against Timmy's hole firmly, "...but you will be."

Tim whimpers and turns his head to press his face against the ottoman, his hips twitching impatiently for more before he can stop himself.

Armie pulls his hand away and waits for him to settle.

When Tim relaxes and rests his cheek against the leather again, Armie finally addresses him quietly. "How many?" He watches Timmy's back muscles tense as he gives him a few seconds to consider.

"F-four?"

"You don't sound very sure...is that adequate for the trouble this could have caused?" He smiles to himself, knowing that Timmy can't see his face. He enjoys making him choose his own sentence almost as much as he enjoys delivering it.

"Five." Timmy squeaks, clears his throat, and tries again. "Five, sir."

"Count them out."

Timmy nods, his brow already bunched in anticipation of the first blow.

Armie curls his index finger and slowly rubs his knuckle over his hole. "That's not an answer, Tim."

"Yes, sir. I'll count them."

Armie uncurls his finger and slides his flat palm over Tim's cheek tenderly, marveling at the creamy smoothness of his skin. This is going to hurt...he must've just waxed the day before and is already incredibly sensitive to the slightest touch. He watches the goosebumps rise as he pulls his hand away, hesitates for a few seconds to allow the anticipation to reach its peak, then brings it down with a resounding smack.

"One." 

His hand stings. Thank God he only wanted five. He quickly administers the second and third one without pause, his cock straining against the wool of his trousers as he watches Timmy try not to squirm under the blows.

"Two —three!"

Armie picks up his glass again to cool his hand and watches as the rosy bloom spreads across Tim's cheek. The first one left the best print. He can see each finger before the heat of the second and third blows begin to cloud the outline. He _must_ do better on the next two. He takes a sip and listens to Tim swallow back the sobs he knows he's not allowed to let out. "Color?"

Tim doesn't respond. Armie lightly presses the bottom of his tumbler to the angriest shade of red on his cheek.

Tim shivers and whispers, "Vert."

Armie smiles a little and rubs the glass around gently until Timmy stops shaking. He sets it aside and presses his hands together to remove any remaining chill from his palms before touching him again.  "You're doing very well. I think the first one might bruise a little." he says softly, running the knuckles of one hand up Tim's inner thigh.

"Thank you, sir...may I have another?"

Armie chuckles and reaches deeper between his legs to brush his fingertips over Timmy's cock hanging oh-so-hard and vulnerable between his knees. He's wet, and so _so_  very hot. "In a minute, baby. I think you deserve a little respite for handling that so quietly. You're getting better. We may not even have to add to the count this time."

Timmy gasps when he wraps his fingers loosely around his sack and tugs backwards.

Armie fondles him tenderly, wishing for all the world that he could free his own aching cock and bring them together...but there will be time for that later. "Shall I switch?"

"Oui...yes, please."

Armie smirks, pleased with his bravery. Timmy knows from experience that his right hand is stronger and will deliver blows that will have his cheeks matching shades of red even with only two strokes to the three from his left. God....this _boy_.

He begins just as he did with the left cheek, soft, light strokes...almost tickling.

Timmy's breathing stutters, his ass flexing just the tiniest bit with the urge to rut against something...but his cock only meets air.

Armie decides that he should definitely give it a little more attention once this phase is complete. He draws back and lands his blow with a satisfying smack that reverberates through down the length of his own cock.

Tim gasps and bites down on his bottom lip just in time to stop himself from yelping. He takes several seconds before he manages to sob out a cracked 'four'.

_This_ one...this one is a beauty. Each finger perfectly outlined, the edges white and stark around a deep rouge ring that darkens by the second. Armie watches the full print emerge with bated breath. This one will definitely linger. He reaches down to the unbearablely tight stretch of wool binding his crotch and rubs lightly as he contemplates whether or not Tim is is aware of just how much this gets him off. He opens his mouth and lets his breath out in a quiet rush of heat as he squeezes himself to take the edge off.

Tim is crying. Silent tears form a puddle on the leather beneath his cheek and he sniffles quietly.

"Ice?"

"No, sir." he whispers.

"Five?" He needs to check in, make sure that he's still in the game...the last one was a doozie. His hand is still tingling.

Tim forgets himself and nods, a soft sob breaking through before he regains his composure enough to take a deep breath and answer verbally. "Oui. Cinq."

Armie expected nothing less. Tim has only ever bowed out once, and that was in the very beginning when they were still learning each other's limits. Just the same he reaches down to check the true measure of his mettle. 

Timmy whimpers and nudges into Armie's hand when he touches him. He's hardly softened at all.

"Please..." it's hardly a word at all...more of an exhale.

Armie licks his lips and forms a loose fist. "Move." Armie answers softly. He deserves this. He _needs_ this. A reassuring touch to soften the hard edges.

Tim circles his hips slowly, growing harder against Armie's palm within seconds.

As he holds him and allows Tim to soothe himself in the welcoming grip of his left hand, he reaches into his jacket pocket with the other and brings a sachet of lube out to tear open with his teeth. He holds the open end a few inches above Tim's hole and lets it drizzle out and run down his taint to the back of his balls.

Tim moans and claws at the leather.

Armie pulls his left hand back a little, still holding his cock, but angling his grip open enough to catch the stream dripping from his tight sack.

"Oh fuck..."

"Shhhhh..."

Armie works the lube over his length as he squeezes the last few drops out before casting the empty packet aside. He tightens his fist as he moves his free hand back to Tim's ass and gently rubs him with his thumb.

Tim starts fucking into his fist in earnest, fingertips squeaking over the leather as he tries to adjust and give himself a better angle.

"Slow down, baby...you know you aren't allowed to come yet." He purrs, knowing how cruel it is even as he smears the lube around and switches his thumb for his index finger, breaching him with agonizingly slow, steady pressure.

Tim whines out a long, warbley sigh - his voice higher than Armie has ever heard it. 

Armie takes a deep breath to steady himself. He's dangerously close to giving in and making him come right then and there just to hear that sound again. Instead, he loosens his fist and draws his finger almost completely out.

"I'll be good. I'll be good. Please." Timmy pleads breathlessly, trying his best to chase Armie's finger despite his limited range.

Armie gives in and pushes back in a little, but keeps his fist loose. "You know we've got one more to go. I'm starting to think that maybe I've been a bit too lenient with this little break."

Tim stills his hips and presses his forehead hard against the ottoman for a moment. He then slowly draws his elbows in close to his sides and lifts his head, facing forward in the same instant he lifts his ass higher than its ever been since he assumed the required position. "Yes, sir. May I—" he seems about to choke on his words and takes a big breath, "May I please have my last lash, sir?"

Armie withdraws both hands, watching hungrily as Tim's hole puckers and pulses at the loss of his finger. His cock twitches hard in his pants, demanding attention. He's not sure how much longer he can keep up this ruse of self control. He's denying himself as much as he denying Tim, and it's becoming more and more difficult to restrain himself by the minute.

Without warning, his right hand arcs down lightening quick and lands a slap that makes Tim startle so violently he moves the furniture forward a couple of inches. Armie has to bite back a shout when the sting explodes across his palm. He didn't consider that the lube would intensify the blow.

The room goes completely silent. Armie waits anxiously to hear Tim draw a breath, cry out, sob...anything. Just when he's about to lean forward to pull him up and apologize, Tim speaks.

"Five. Sir." His voice is thick and choked with tears and Armie feels it like a weight punching his chest. He waits for more, but Tim doesn't move. "....Tim?"

"Jaune." He answers in a shaky whisper.

Armie's chest tightens as he strokes the backs of Tim's thighs gently and tries to keep his eyes from going to the purple splotch forming on his right cheek.

They're both quiet for a moment, each dealing with the intensity of the moment internally before daring to move forward.

Tim gingerly pulls one foot from its place and pushes up on his hands as he drags the other one free. He stands facing away from Armie while he wipes his face clean before turning around to face him. Without a word, he drops to his knees and buries his face against Armie's belly.

Armie wipes his hands on his expensive suit then lays one between Tim's shoulder blades, the other in his hair. He pets him quietly for a moment, feeling him relax more and more with every gentle tug through his curls.

Finally, a muffled response. "Thank you."

Armie swallows, finds that he can't speak-  tries again. "You okay?"

Tim sniffs and raises his head. He looks up at Armie with a beatific smile and nods. "That was intense."

He laughs a little and Armie knows that everything is okay. 

Armie makes a little comical wince and admits, "I didn't consider the lube factor."

Tim raises one brow and smiles more broadly. "Oh, so you didn't _think_?"

"Touché." A hot flush creeps up from his chest at the tease and he laughs despite himself. "Cheeky little bastard. You know that's what got here in the first place, right? That mouth of yours."

Tim grins and slides his hand up to the top button of Armie's shirt. "Then I guess I should find other ways to occupy it so I don't get into any more trouble. I don't think my ass could handle any more at this point." His eyes crinkle mischievously.

Armie reaches up and covers Tim's busy fingers with his own to still them. "You sure you're okay?" He cups his cheek with his other hand and breathes a sigh of relief when Tim nuzzles back affectionately.

"I'm okay. Really. But I'll be sleeping on my stomach tonight."

"With a cold compress." Armie adds.

Tim nods and smiles, "Yes, sir. With a cold compress."

"No more sir, okay?" Armie asks softly.

Tim turns and kisses his palm. "No more sir. Just us..." When he looks back up at him his eyes are soft and adoring. "You didn't give me any more than I wanted, Armie. You know that, right?"

Armie pulls his hand away and glances at his red palm. "If you say so..." he answers dubiously.

"I do." Tim grins and kneels up to return to the task of unbuttoning Armie's shirt. "Now it's time for you to relax. Rest. Let me take over."

"We don't have to —"

"Yes. Yes we do. Because I _want_ it. I wanted this, and I want _you_. Fuck...I _need_ you, Armie. I've been thinking about getting alone with you for days now, and I'm not wasting a moment of it, okay?" He yanks Armie's shirt free of his pants as he gets the last button undone and immediately leans forward to bury his mouth against his chest. "Goddamn...you smell so good." He purrs.

Armie cups the nape of his neck and leans back to let him have his way. His cock had lost all interest in the silence following that last blow, but Tim's mouth against his skin is quickly stirring him again.

"What is this? I need some of this." Tim murmurs urgently between kisses.

Armie chuckles and squeezes the back of his neck. "I don't know...hotel soap? We'll steal some for you before we check out." 

Timmy hums in answer and moves over to suckle one nipple.

Armie smiles and thinks about how sweet it is that Tim likes to collect the scents he wears as mementos from times when they can be together. He must have a whole shelf of different colognes by now. His throat constricts with emotion. One day soon he hopes that they can share that shelf...no longer sneaking around but free to —

Tim nips at him, yanking him out of his thoughts with a startled gasp.

"The fuck?! What was that for?"

Tim grins up at him. "To get your attention. Where were you?"

Armie smiles and smooths a wayward curl back off his forehead. "Here, baby. I'm right here."

Tim leans back down to resume his kisses, holding Armie's eyes for as long as he can as he moves lower.

Armie watches him and muses over the circumstances that brought them together. What had he ever done in his life to deserve him? Thank God for Luca.... he really must send another wine basket.

Timmy reaches his belt line and sinks back onto his haunches, licking his lips.

"I was good for you wasn't I?" he asks sweetly, gazing up at him from beneath his lashes as he unfastens his belt. "You believe I'm sorry now, right?"

Armie tilts his head and laughs quietly. "Baby, you're _always_ good for me, but no...no I don't believe for a minute that you're sorry about pulling that little stunt - and I'll let you in on a little secret...I was never mad about it."

Tim nimbly unzips his pants and gives him a devious smile as he reaches in to pull his cock out. "Good, because I'm not sorry at all, not even the least little bit, and I would do it all over again to have this night with you."

Armie's breath catches as Tim cradles his cock in both hands like some holy relic and leans forward to lick a line up the underside from base to tip.

"You're so good to me, Armie..." he whispers over the tip, eyes locked on Armie's, "...so good to me. Give me everything I need." He closes his eyes then and takes the crown between his wet lips with a soft moan.

"God, Tim....you can't talk to me like that and expect me to just—"

Tim slides down his length and cuts him off, making him gasp and grab onto the armrests to keep the room from spinning.

He pulls back up and glances at Armie again as he reaches for his hand and guides it to the back of his head.

Armie buries his fingers and scrapes his nails lightly across Timmy's scalp as he sinks down again.

"You're a fucking angel..." he mutters under his breath as his head drops back against the chair.

He hears Tim snort a little laugh through his nose and looks down at him again.

"What?"

Tim pulls back and grins up at him. "I don't think angels intentionally make to trouble in order to get spankings."

Armie grins back at him. "Mine does."

Tim rolls his eyes and starts placing soft kisses all around his crown. "God, you're schmoopy tonight." he giggles.

"Schmoopy? The fuck is 'schmoopy'?"

Tim shrugs and licks him like a lollipop. "You know. Like...mushy."

"No. No, I did _not_ know that. Where did you hear that?"

"I didn't hear it. I read it." His eyes sparkle impishly as he opens his mouth and suckles the tip of Armie's cock teasingly.

"Read it where?"

Tim pulls off briefly and gives him a wry look. "Trust me. You don't want to know. Can I suck your cock now?"

Armie grins and calls him a little shit as Tim opens his mouth and takes him back down deep. Before long he's incapable of stringing more than the syllables of Timothée's name together with any coherence. Both hands are buried deep in Tim's hair and his ass is sliding ever lower in his seat in an effort to gain more leverage to thrust up into his sinful mouth. He feels the moment rushing up on him all at once. "St- stop. Baby, stop." He holds Tim's head still and pants raggedly.

Tim pops off with a dazed look, a string of saliva connecting his puffy bottom lip to Armie's cock.

Armie's looks down and him and his dick throbs at the sight. "Come up here." he growls, sounding more aggressive than he intended as he reaches for Tim's arms to pull him up.

Timmy wobbles a little as he stands and bends one knee to straddle Armie's lap. "Was it not good?"

Armie huffs a little incredulous laugh. "No, no...it was _too_ good."

Tim blushes a little and swipes the back of his hand over is messy chin as he positions himself over Armie.

Armie reaches around him to cup his ass and gets a hiss of warning.

"Oh- oh baby...I'm sorry." He quickly pulls his hands away, but Tim is just as quick to reposition them on his hips.

"S'okay- just hold me here." He then reaches down and guides Armie to him as he starts to sink down with a slack jaw and heavy lidded eyes.

He's tight...so tight that even the lube from earlier combined with the spit slicking his cock right now doesn't seem like enough, but as Timmy starts to work his way down with gentle little bounces and softly muttered curses in French, Armie forgets how to form the words to tell him to go slow.

Tim's hands move up first to his shoulders, then into his hair as he finds his rhythm and opens up inch by inch.

They stare into each other's eyes, panting in sync, until he's finally bottomed out and Timmy leans in with a breathy moan. "Kiss me."

Armie wraps his arms around his back and pulls him close, whispering 'I love you' before taking his mouth in a slow, deep kiss.

Tim circles his hips and moans, sucking on his tongue until the sensations become too much and he pulls back to leverage himself up and drop back down again.

"Want you to come in me."

"Yeah—"

"Fuck- so good. You feel _so_ good—" he trails off in a whine and bounces faster, one hand scrabbling back up to yank at Armie's hair as he starts to ride him hard and fast. 

Armie is mesmerized by his ever changing facial expressions, his energy, his heat. Nothing exists but Tim. His voice. His body. His desperate hands clawing at him as he rushes towards his climax.

"Wanna come."

"Tim—"

"Come for me...need to come- fuck. Please. _Please_."

Armie watches his face twist, sweat dripping down his temple.

Timmy keens when Armie reaches between them and brushes over his neglected cock.

"Yes- oh fuck! _Say_ _it_!"

"Come, baby. Come." Armie growls up at him. He barely gets his hand around him before Tim's ass tightens around him and he goes off all over his chest and belly.

The quick pulses and spasms around his cock pull him over the edge with a shout as Timmy arches back and screams his name.

They writhe together, Armie sliding lower on the cushion as he supports Tim's back to keep him from toppling backwards.

By the time Tim collapses against him they're both shaking and drenched in sweat. Armie's suit is ruined, and he couldn't be happier about it.

Tim groans against his neck, "Fuck, I'm exhausted."

Armie laughs softly and strokes his back. "How long have you been holding back?"

Tim sits up and drags his mouth around to kiss him, murmuring against Armie's lips. "I could have come when you told me to 'present'." He grins and pulls back.

Armie looks up at him and laughs. "Come on. Surely it takes a little more than that?"

Tim shrugs. "I'm young. Doesn't take much." He pushes down on Armie's shoulders and pulls off before lowering himself back to Armie's lap. "God, I'm a mess..."

Armie looks down at the wet ribbons splashed across his chest and the lapels of his jacket then back up at Tim with a raised brow and a smirk. "You're not the one wearing ruined Armani and cum."

"Oh shit! Your suit!" Tim's eyes widen in alarm.

Armie laughs and kneads his thigh muscles. "Totally worth it. Do you think you can manage to stand for a shower?"

Tim scrunches his face as he starts to shift back to stand. "Bath?"

Armie doesn't miss the hopeful note in his voice. "Of course." He nods over to a bucket of Heinekens on ice. "You grab the beer, I'll start the water."

Tim leans forward and gives him a wet smack on the lips before raising up on his wobbly legs. "You're too good to me."

Armie takes a second to watch his blushing cheeks as Tim shuffles across the suite to grab the beers. He's going to be _very_ uncomfortable on his flight tomorrow. "Tim?"

"Yeah?"

He knows him too well. "The compress is non-negotiable. Don't think you're getting out of it because of the bath."

"But—"

"And Arnica."

"Noooo." he whines. "It smells funny!"

" _Tim_." All it takes is a warning tone over his shoulder as he drops his clothes in a trail on his way to the bathroom.

"Fine." he huffs petulantly, "But I want bubbles."

Armie laughs as he starts the water. "Then bubbles you shall have, little prince."

"I heard that!"

 


End file.
